Rainbow
by mulitcom
Summary: It all starts when Gambit meets Rogue at a bar. Yes, she has a boyfriend. Yes, the Cure may not last forever. Whatever. That doesn't seem to bother him much, does it?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. Thanks for giving this story a chance - I'm going to try and work on it till the end. Mind my French, I had to use an online translator and dig up random phrases I remembered from my last trip to Paris - I've only taken Spanish and German classes. :)  
Review if you can!**

Chapter One

(1)

"_Bonsoir_," he said, smooth as silk, "you must be Rogue."

There was a beat of silence before she nodded politely. "You must be Gambit."

Gambit's lips curved into a perfect smile. "You've heard many things about me, then, _chere_?"

Rogue offered a half-shrug. Back at the mansion, she often heard herself described as timid or shy—just generally _quiet_. She didn't know why Gambit was interested in her. He seemed like the type of guy who'd usually be surrounded by hoards of proud, confident supermodels.

"Well, everything you've heard is true," Gambit assured her, his grin widening.

She stared at him speechlessly, and his smile was contaminated with smugness.

"So you really have twenty-seven different types of STDs?" Rogue blurted, promptly wiping the smirk off the Cajun's face. She clamped her mouth shut immediately, blushing a furious shade of red. _Timid, quiet, shy_, she thought. _Timid, quiet, shy_.

Gambit burst into laughter. Startled, Rogue nearly fell from her seat. When Gambit's laughter finally faded, he asked gently, "What are you doing here, _mon ami_?"

"I'm not your friend," she snapped. "And why _wouldn't _I be here? I'm legal."

There. She'd done it again, broke through the 'introverted' label she wore. It felt good.

"Well, you don't seem like kind of girl who would go to a bar called _Rainbow_. It sounds like the name of a gay club, doesn't it?"

The bartender glared at him, but Rogue chuckled. "I guess so," she told Gambit. "But I like this place. I overheard Logan talking about it the other day."

Gambit let out a low whistle. "You know Wolverine?"

" 'Course," she said. "He's like… he's like an older brother to me."

He made a noise of disbelief. "_Merde_. If I were someone else, I'd be scared shitless."

Rogue laughed again. _Gambit_, she decided, wasn't bad at all. "Amen, darlin'." Her bare arm grazed his, and he blinked in surprise at the contact.

"I thought you were the _fille _with the poisonous touch," He said casually, fingers dancing softly up her arm like a spider. Strangely enough, she didn't even flinch. "Shouldn't I be in a coma by now?"

"I took the Cure," she told him vaguely. She watched, perplexed, as his hand left her skin and his arm dropped limply to his side.

"You know," Gambit said slowly, "some people say the Cure doesn't really work. It wears off over time, they say."

Rogue shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by his warning. "Well, when that happens, I'll find a way to take it again."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course."

Gambit stood up abruptly from his barstool, grabbing his drink. "Well then, Rogue, _au revoir _and _bonne chance._" He sounded cold.

She was puzzled. "Wait—where are you going?"

"A place where there are people who actually enjoy being themselves," he said curtly, turning on his heel to walk away.

His retort hit a sore spot. "No, wait, Gambit!"

He glanced over his shoulder slightly. "_Oui_?"

Rogue sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, wondering why she was apologizing to a guy she'd just met. "I guess that was the wrong thing to say."

There was silence. Then—

Cheerfully, Gambit smiled and sat back down beside her. "_Bon_," he said, clanking his sharp whiskey against her stale, flat beer. He tilted his head back and drank.

Rogue stared at him, motionless.

"Hmm?" Gambit wiped his mouth and arched his brows. "What's wrong?"

"_'What's wrong'_?" Rogue repeated incredulously. "Sugar, you got pissed and almost left, and now you're acting like nothing happened."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Well, do you want me to explain myself and start talking about the hardships of my past, _ma chere_? We barely know each other."

Rogue was quiet.

"I thought so." He leaned back, gestured for the bartender to get him another drink, and ran a hand through his already-ruffled brown hair. His red-black eyes flashed as he smiled.

"Actually…" Rogue drawled, "I'd love to hear you talk about yourself. As long as you don't randomly add in French words while you do, that is."

Gambit frowned. _"Vous n'aimez pas mon fran__ç__ais?"_

"No, I _like _your French," Rogue rolled her eyes, unimpressed, "but it gets on my nerves. I took French classes before, you know, and my teacher was this evil spitting woman with a forked tongue."

"I didn't know Toad's mother taught French class," Gambit teased, then laughed.

Rogue glanced at him wryly. "Are going to talk or not?"

Gambit shrugged. "There's not much to say. My mutation must've been the reason why my parents abandoned me—they were frightened by the color of my eyes, maybe. Or maybe I just kept blowing things up as an infant. My mutation was what got me into all the trouble I went through, though being part of the Guild of Thieves might've added to the cause. Still, I would rather kill myself then throw all of that away just to be normal, to take the_ Cure_."

Rogue closed her eyes, exhaled, then opened them. "But your mutation isn't like _mine_, Gambit. You can control it. You don't know what it's like to be the way I was before, not being able to touch anyone, to be _alone_."

He took her hand, clasping it between both of his. "Does this make you happy, then? You're touching someone. You're not hurting anybody."

She zeroed in on his tan skin and long, graceful fingers. Her hand looked so delicate and pale wrapped in his. "I know," Rogue said. "And I like this. It's called human contact, and _I_ _like it_."

Gambit released her hand. "But you're not human, _chere_," he pointed out. "You're a mutant."

She stretched her fingers. "Not anymore."

He shook his head. "You were born a mutant, and you'll always be a mutant," he argued.

"Is _that _your philosophy?" Rogue asked, eyebrows raised. "It sounds stupid to me."

He seemed genuinely offended. "_Excuse-moi_?"

"Yes, you're excused," Rogue said, the corner of her lips twitching into a smile.

"_Chere_," Gambit whined.

"Yes, Gambit?"

"Call me Remy."

"Then call me Rogue."

They locked gazes, neither daring to break away. Then, without him noticing, Rogue slowly let her hand creep up to Gambit's face. He blinked, acknowledging it, and gave her a curious look. She reached out, as if she were about to caress his cheek like a lover would.

"AHHH!" Gambit yelped.

Rogue cackled, snatching her fingers from the area near his neck before he could catch her. "Pressure point."

Gambit shook his head. "You are so, so strange, Rogue."

She grinned. "Thank you, _Remy_."

His face lit up.

(2)

"Hey," she said, smiling. "It's you again."

His greeting was different. "ROGUEY!" Gambit shouted, pulling her into a huge bear hug. Then he laughed, amused by her stunned expression. "Maybe we should meet here every Monday night,_ chere_," he suggested. "Nobody thinks about going to a bar on _Mondays_."

"Sure thing," she agreed. "We're special."

"Of course," he supplied. "We're X-Men."

"Say," Rogue began, "What's your power, Remy? You can blow stuff up, right?"

Gambit reached into the pocket of his long, loose trench coat and pulled out a deck of playing cards. He chose a random face card; its back was violet and covered in swirly designs. "Right, _cherie_," he said, and tossed it up. It exploded in midair, purple-red sparks flying. The few people in the bar sprinted for the exit in a flurry of panic.

"Wow," Rogue commented, waving smoke away from her face. "Fireworks. Can you do anything useful?" She gave her mouth a sarcastic twist to the side.

Gambit laughed. "If a little birdie had flown in here when I threw that card, it'd be dead by now."

"I don't believe you," Rogue told him, shuffling the remaining playing cards. She did a sloppy move that sent a few cards flying off the counter, and blushed as they drifted to the floor.

Gambit snorted and retrieved them, stealing the incomplete deck from Rogue and masterfully, one-handedly shuffling the cards with his magic fingers. "I have a wooden staff, too, but I'm afraid I'll scare people away by taking it out."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Sugar, you've already scared them away."

"Really?" He asked, amused. "Hmm. I set off one little explosion and they've all gone a-running home." He turned his head around, scanned the line of bottled drinks and dripping taps, and laughed. "Oh, look, the bartender left, too. I don't think he likes us."

"So, then, are you going to show me your staff or not?" Rogue demanded. She was suddenly excited to see it.

"_Non_," Gambit smirked. "It'd be like pulling down my pants in front of your eyes."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Does that mean you show all your enemies your private bits whenever you fight?"

He laughed. "_Oui_, of course. Why do you think I always win?"

Rogue pretended to take him seriously and actually ponder over his question.

"They're always entranced by my equipment, you see, and they never notice that I've set off one of these." He fanned out his cards and grinned.

"You're not normal, Remy," She informed him.

Gambit threw his arm over her shoulders. "_Non_, I'm not."

"Do you like being an X-Man so far?"

He smiled sunnily. "I hate it."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you people are all _organized_. My motto is 'To hell with organization!', you know. And also, I'm not allowed to steal anything. I was bred to be a thief, so right now I'm feeling a bit like a recovering alcoholic."

Rogue eyed his empty glass. It was the third drink he'd had since he arrived."An alcoholic, huh?"

Gambit chuckled. "Figurative language, _cherie_." He easily swung his legs over the counter and poured himself another drink. "But I'll consider the offer."

The entire building seemed to creak as he moved. Rainbow was an old bar, and from the exterior and interior, it looked like it was about to break down any minute. Still, it had a woodsy smell and a gentle appearance and the feeling of home, no matter where your home was, and that was why it was so appreciated by its customers.

"Remy?"

"Mmm?"

"Why don't I ever see you around at the mansion?"

There was a pause, and then he answered, "I don't live there."

"Why not?"

Gambit shrugged. "It's not right for me. I've already agreed to becoming an X-Man, so that should be enough for Wolf-_homme_ and Stormy."

"You don't have a communicator, either?"

"Those things are incredibly stupid." Gambit stated with a smile. He hesitated, then added, "Anyway, you _have _seen me around. I always pass you in the hall, after missions and things like that."

"Hmm, I guess so." Rogue yawned—it was getting late, and she'd had a tiring day. "By the way, Remy…"

"What now, _chere_?"

She spoke her mind without a hint of uncertainty. "I mean… we just met last week, but… I like you. I can be myself around you, even though you're practically a stranger to me."

He chuckled. "Aw, thanks, Rogue. I like you, too."

Rogue flashed a thousand-watt smile, then changed the subject, wondering, "Do you think the bartender will ever come back?"

"I sincerely doubt it," Gambit chortled. "I scared him off for good, didn't I?"

Rogue pushed her drink away from her. The glass was three-quarters full. "Doesn't matter," she said. "He made horrible drinks. And it's pretty hard to screw up something as simple as a _drink_. I mean, he's nearly as bad as your Cajun accent, Swamp Rat."

"Ouch." He put his hand over his heart and tossed his head back theatrically. "You wound me, River Rat."

She shot him a surprised look. "How'd you guess where I'm from?"

Gambit smirked. "_Cherie_, your twang is as thick as the water of our swamps. Anyway, only a Mississippi woman would call a fine Louisiana man like me a _rat_."

Rogue didn't bother restraining herself from rolling her eyes. "A _fine_ man, Remy? Y'all can't even say somethin' without gettin' on a lady's bad side."

He laughed at the sudden change of her accent, and drawled his next words like they were in French, keeping his mouth mostly closed until he was almost unintelligible. In fact, Rogue couldn't understand him at all, but she was pretty sure he had said, "Well, I don't know if you would consider yourself a _lady_, Rogue."

"Thanks." Another eye-roll.

Gambit jumped suddenly, as if he had just remembered something. "Oh, _cherie_, I almost forgot to ask you—why don't we ever have any missions together, hmm?"

Rogue was quiet.

"_Cherie_?" He gazed at her expectantly, still waiting for her reply.

"Uh… well… they send me on all the easy ones."

"Why? You've been at the School for years, haven't you?"

The confidence she felt when she was around him had dissipated. "I don't have my mutation anymore," she said flatly. "They don't need me."

Gambit said something in French. Rogue suspected it was a curse. He pulled her into a hug, as if she needed comforting (she did, sometimes, but she wasn't that weak. Maybe.).

There was a long, somehow soothing silence.

"Rogue?"

She turned her head to look at him.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Rogue pulled away, mentally cursing the stupid womanizer for taking advantage of her. When she spoke, her voice was bone-dry. "Yes. It's Bobby—do you know him?"

Gambit chuckled. "_Oui. _Well, at least somebody's enjoying the whole being-able-to-touch-you thing, _chere_."

Surprised, she laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

(3)

"So, Remy, what's going on in your life right now?" She asked the question with simple curiosity, trying not to sound like she was prying or being nosy, but the wary look he gave her made her feel like she was a meddling kid with a dog named Scooby-Doo.

"The usual," he replied, glaring at the new, younger bartender (whose name was Terry) as if he had been eavesdropping on their conversation. "Wake up. Eat. Hunt for women. Sleep. Occasionally go on a mission."

"Wow," Rogue snorted. "What a good life. It's so… so _sophisticated_."

"_Chere_, don't be a hypocrite. Your agenda is probably full of eating, sleeping, kicking ass, and making out with your frozen boyfriend."

She reddened, the heated blush spreading across her face and prickling her neck. "Shut up."

Gambit winked. "Oh, I got everything right, didn't I? I'm brilliant."

"Charming," she said dryly. "Now, hand me that daiquiri, will you? You don't look like you're enjoying it."

"I'm not," He confirmed. "It's the most repulsive thing I've ever tasted."

Terry, who was rhythmically wiping down the counter, stopped in mid-wipe and narrowed his eyes at Gambit. He'd made the daiquiri with his own two hands, pouring and mixing liquids (some of them had mysterious stenches) that didn't belong together. Rogue had watched with barely-stifled laughter, while Gambit had worn a look of disgust. Terry was just as bad as the previous bartender.

Gambit smiled sheepishly and apologized in French, while discreetly slipping the drink into Rogue's hand under the counter. "_D__é__sol__é_."

"Dude, don't come here if you don't like the drinks," Terry snapped. Spittle flew onto the shiny counter, and he forcefully wiped it away.

Gambit waggled his brows. "I don't come here for your drinks," he told him. "I come here for _her_." He jabbed his finger in Rogue's direction.

Terry gave Rogue an once-over as she blushed again at Gambit's words. "Hmm," he said, admiring her unusual white streaks of hair and the soft, almost invisible dusting of freckles over her nose and across her cheeks. "I can see why," he said, and snickered. He held out his fist for Gambit to bump.

"_Non_, not like that," Gambit said, rolling his eyes and ignoring Terry's fist. "She's my friend."

"Just a friend?" Terry inquired.

"Don't get your hopes up, _homme_. She's got a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" Terry scoffed and turned to Rogue, who was staring at him like he was the Anti-Christ. "What's your little boyfriend's name, girlie?"

"Bobby," she uttered.

Terry let out an obnoxious laugh. "Bobby? What kind of retarded name is that? Is he an _accountant_? Does he play _golf_?"

"He's an X-Man," Gambit deadpanned. "You know, that kid who could make hell ice over if he wanted to."

Terry paled. "Oh."

Rogue shot Gambit a warning glance and said to Terry, "Naw, it's not like that. Bobby's really friendly."

Terry shook his head and made a noise of frustration. "It doesn't matter. You're the second chick this week I've tried to hit on who is taken by some mutant superhero."

Rogue raised her eyebrows. "_Second_?"

"Uh-huh. The other girl claimed her boyfriend could fly, then knocked me out with her mind."

"Warren's girl?" Gambit mused aloud. "Say, Terry, did that girl talk like a Brit but look like an Asian supermodel?"

He frowned and tapped his fingers on the dented but clean counter. "Yeah, exactly that."

"It's Betsy," Gambit told Rogue, smiling. "I went clubbing with her once. _Merde_, that girl can drink."

"Betsy?" Rogue echoed. "I didn't know she was with Warren. Why didn't anybody tell me?"

He shrugged. "It's a low-profile thing. I only know about it because I'm absolutely _merveilleux_."

"You'll never cease to amaze me with your self-flattery."

"Aw, you're making me blush, _chere_."

Terry looked between the two mutants suspiciously. "You sure you guys aren't dating?"

Gambit stretched, locking his hands together behind his head. "The two of us are perfectly aware of the dangers of dating. I killed my own brother-in-law. Rogue here practically became a nun after puberty began—"

"But now," Rogue interrupted, somehow unsurprised by his statement about his brother-in-law, "I can touch people. So it's perfectly okay for me to date Bobby. I can't hurt him."

Gambit snorted. "You can't hurt him? _Cherie_, you need to toughen up. Your powers will eventually return. You'll have to face the music." He shot her a sharp look.

"Wait a minute, you guys are mutants?" Terry asked, alarmed. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

Rogue returned Gambit's piercing glance with a steely-eyed stare of her own, then turned back to the nervous bartender. "The last guy got scared and ran off, and the boss probably didn't know why, so there was nothing to inform you of."

Terry began to sweat. The beads of perspiration were visible through the short bleached-blond fuzz atop his head. Rogue and Gambit both noticed this, but Gambit was the one who commented on it.

"You resemble an early Slim Shady," he remarked, a wicked gleam in his eye. "But the sweat ruins the whole cocky rapper look."

Terry didn't seem to hear him. "You're a mutant?" He repeated weakly, backed up against a shelf-wall of fancy vodka.

Rogue slapped her palm to her forehead. "Yes, Terry, he's a mutant."

Gambit sighed dramatically. "Why does everyone fear mutants? It's not like I'm going to blow you up, Terry." He smiled mischievously. "Though I could."

Terry began to tremble, and the bottles behind him shook as well.

"Shut up, Remy, you're making things worse," said Rogue.

"_Désolé_," Gambit muttered. "But he doesn't seem likethe type of guy to be frightened so easily." He looked at Terry. "I thought you were tough, loud. The kind of guy who wears cologne to bed and only showers once a week."

"Hey!" Terry protested, moving away from a teetering row of _Absolut_. "I shower twice a day, for your information."

Gambit stared at him in disbelief. "Who showers _twice a day_?" He asked incredulously. "Do you magically become dirty overnight? Do you go hiking in your sleep? Or is your girlfriend just rougher than she should be?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, but her lips curved upward. "Remy, don't say stuff like that."

"No, no, it's okay," Terry said, suddenly staring admiringly at Gambit as if he had notjust been quaking in fear of his powers. "You're alright, dude. You're cool."

Gambit grinned.

(4)

"So, Remy," Rogue started conversationally, "tell me about the whole brother-in-law thing. You didn't tell me you were married." She was beginning to see him in a different light, but she wasn't sure if it was light or dark.

Gambit shrugged. "I'm not."

Rogue furrowed her brow, waiting expectantly for him to continue on.

"We married, but the relationship ended without needing divorce. She was my wife for a few hours, and part of an entirely different… guild."

"Oh, so it was a Capulet-and-Montague situation, then?"

"Not exactly. Our marriage was supposed to bring the guilds together, as a treaty of some sort, but Bella Donna's brother, Julien, tried to kill me after the wedding. So I killed him."

Rogue seemed only slightly startled by the gruesomeness of Gambit's so-called love story. Her focus was on the girl, not the gore. "Bella Donna," she sighed. "That's a beautiful name."

"_Oui_, but for an ugly girl, _chere_," Gambit mumbled. He quickly backpedaled when Rogue gave him a half-baffled, half-irritated look. "Ugly on the inside, I meant. I loved her, and I still do, but now I hate her at the same time. Do you know what I mean?"

Rogue chuckled darkly. "No. How can you marry someone if you don't love them completely?"

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Gambit cried. "Break it off? My guild would've been devastated, and her guild would've been pissed."

"Your own happiness means more," Rogue stated. "It wouldn't make a big difference if the marriage totally went through, would it? You wouldn't be in love. You'd be miserable, and your… _guilds _would just be a little less cold toward each other."

Gambit stared at her in wonder. "I…" He quickly shook his head. "But the marriage _didn't _go through, and I ended up miserable anyway."

Rogue frowned. "What do you mean?" Gambit seemed like a pretty calm, satisfied man. He was the sort of guy who made friends wherever he went, and could get whatever he wanted.

"After I killed Julien," he cleared his throat nervously, "they kicked me out of my own home, my own family. Not just the Guild and my house—they completely banned me."

Rogue's jaw dropped. "They just threw you out of New Orleans?"

"_Oui_."

"That's… that's not fair! Your actions were purely out of self-defense, weren't they? _Plus _you're a mutant, so you could have simply lost control over your powers or something."

Gambit snorted. "Who would believe that? They all knew I was skillful with my mutation, and they were all aware that I didn't particularly like Julien. The case was lost before it was even formed."

Rogue growled, pushing a lock of white away from her eyes. "Well, whoever that Julien guy was, he deserved to die."

Gambit blinked at her, shocked. "Wow, Rogue." He laughed.

"What?" She demanded hotly, suddenly self-conscious. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

Gambit gave her a _no big deal _shrug. "That statement was bold, that's all. I like it."

Crimson tinted her skin. "Oh."

"Don't blush so often, _chere_," Gambit insisted. "Just be yourself."

Rogue glanced at Terry, who was tampering with the rusty smoke alarm, oblivious to their conversation. He was the only other person in the bar. "I _am _being myself," She hissed to Gambit. "Around most people, I'm…" Her lowered her voice until she was barely audible, "…just a quiet, shy ex-mutant, that's all."

"_Quiet_? _Shy_?" Gambit's smile was crooked and amused.

Rogue gave a mousy little nod, her eyes wide and apprehensive.

Gambit twisted around and propped his elbows on the counter. "And Bobby finds this version of you sexy? What a turn-off. I like you when you're brash and scary."

"Scary?" She squeaked, her shoulders slumping.

Gambit inhaled sharply. "You can stop now," he informed her. "The shyness scares me more."

Rogue straightened her back. "I wasn't pretending," she muttered. "I have… self-esteem issues. I want to please everyone, but it's impossible."

"Amen," Gambit agreed. "_C'est la vie_." He paused, then added belatedly, "Now, since I'm not one to talk to you about self-esteem issues, being the amazing person that I am…"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Right. Then let's discuss"—her eyes fell on her unfinished beverage—"drinks."

"Drinks?" Gambit repeated with mock surprise, lifting his own glass to his lips. "How old are you again, _cherie_? Fourteen, fifteen?"

She smiled lightly. "Funny, Remy. I'm twenty-two."

He spewed Jim Beam everywhere, and she ducked. "_What_? I thought you were lying when you said you were legal!"

"Why would I lie?" Rogue handed him a crusty old napkin she found on the counter. "Anyway, how old are _you_?"

He waved away the ancient napkin and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I'm… thirty-two."

Rogue whistled. "Ten years older. Wow, I expected more."

"_Pardon_?"

She laughed. "I'm kidding, Remy. Logan's older than you."

"Wolf-_homme_? Really? Hmm." Gambit yawned. "What about Bobby?"

She shrugged. "Same age as me."

"He's perfect for you, then."

"Eh."

"What do you mean, _'eh'_?"

"Well, I don't really expect a careless flirt like you to tell me about who's _perfect _for me. Anyway, Bobby and I have been… distant, lately."

"I'm not a flirt," Gambit argued, sticking out his bottom lip and making it tremble for effect. "You hurt my feelings, Roguey."

Rogue stuck out her tongue, feeling wonderfully childish as she did so. "Good."

"But really, what's going on between you and your popsicle-_gar__ç__on_? Trouble in paradise?" He smiled widely. "He's not cheating, is he?"

Rogue fell silent.

"Oh," Gambit said, fumbling to cover up his mistake. "Um, well… I hope that bastard burns in hell."

"Whatever," Rogue said flatly. "It's okay, Remy, don't lose your mind over it. It's just a suspicion I have, that's all. We're still doing pretty good."

"You sure, _cherie_?" Gambit questioned skeptically. "I mean, I want you to be alright."

Her heart softened at his obvious concern. "Don't worry, Remy," she assured him, "I'm fine."

* * *

**:D**

**If you got all the way down here, write a review. Good or bad, doesn't matter. It just really helps.**

**I WANT TO SEE A ROMY MOVIE. Obviously, Rogue and Gambit are not going to be in X-Men First Class. Shucks.**

**Thanks to Chellerbelle and BasiaM82 for reviewing!**

**CLICK THAT BUTTON.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Possibly the weirdest chapter I've written. It didn't make much sense, so I tried to fix it. Threw in an Avenger for no reason, 'cause I've been reading the Ultimates. Sigh.**

Chapter Three

(5)

"I like your shirt," Gambit said, sliding into the seat beside Rogue. "It's not like the boring dark clothes you usually wear. What's this thing called? A dashiki?"

Rogue looked at him in surprise, lifting the arm of her shirt to showcase the bright colors. "How'd you know, Remy?"

"My autobiography, _From Stealing to Spandex_, should answer that question, _cherie_."

Rogue rolled her eyes and snorted back her laughter. "Right. Anyway, aren't you going to ask why I'm dressed like this today?"

Gambit shrugged. "Too many reruns of _That 70's Show_?"

"Nope." She let a chuckle escape. "But a lot of people did call me a flower child this morning."

"Nice."

Terry sidled up to them cheerfully, regarding Gambit the way a peasant might behold a king. "Hello, Gambit. Hello, Rogue."

Gambit did not give Terry the option to call him Remy, which made Rogue smile. "_Allo_, Terry."

"Do you wanna hear a joke?" He said eagerly. Without waiting for a response, he began, "Two mutants walk into a bar…"

"Heard that one already," Gambit and Rogue stated promptly, in unison. They looked at each other and grinned.

Terry shrank down, disappointed. "Oh." He glanced at Rogue's outfit. "Hey, what's with the hippie shirt?"

Rogue shrugged. "Peace, brother."

There conversation was abruptly halted as Terry and Rogue jumped at the sound of somebody retching. Gambit smiled a Mona Lisa smile. "Someone's celebrating their twenty-first," he commented. "Looks like her stomach couldn't handle it."

Rogue studied his face. "What's with the snarky smile? Did you spike her drink with urine or something?"

Gambit recoiled in mock horror. "_Non_!" He gasped. "I've only done that to Wolf-_homme_. And he didn't even barf."

Rogue gagged, and Terry sped off, busying himself with cleaning up the girl's vomit (ew). "I'm sure he'll be happy when I tell him that."

"Narc."

"Jerk."

His grin was lopsided. "Stop flattering me, _cherie_. My heart can't take your kindness."

As Rogue pondered over her comeback, the drunk and newly legal girl who'd vomited earlier staggered past the two X-Men, escorted by a couple of friends who were having trouble holding her up. Gambit winked at her, and even in the state she was in, she managed a wavering smile in return.

"I can practically read your mind," Rogue told Gambit, once the trio was out of earshot. "You're thinking, _'She'll be in my bed by tomorrow morning._'"

"You give me more credit than I'm responsible for."

Rogue hid her smile. "Really?"

"_Oui_. Getting a barely-conscious girl across town and into the apartment is never easy."

"You act like you've done it before."

"_Tried _to. Didn't accomplish anything."

She chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. "We talk like a sitcom, don't we?"

Gambit arched his brows. "Do you mean the corny-ness of our retorts, or the way we talk at a rapid-fire speed like we're reciting from scripts?"

Choosing not to answer his question, Rogue cleared her throat dramatically and recited boldly, as if she were on Broadway, "'He's more of myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.'"

"Is that from _Pride and Prejudice_?"

"_Wuthering Heights_, actually."

"Gah. I hated that."

"You read the book?"

He snorted. "_Non_. Do I look like an avid reader to you? I watched the 80's French movie."

"Did you watch the movie adaption of _Pride and Prejudice_, too?"

"_Oui_. The English one, though. I have the hots for Keira Knightly."

"Well, what's the last book you've read?"

Gambit smiled sheepishly. "_Green Eggs and Ham_."

The look she cast him could only be described as incredulous. "And that's only because it didn't have a movie version, right?"

"Wow, you must be telepathic!"

Rogue pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're so… _strange_, Remy."

"I'm not the one wearing the dashiki."

She appeared genuinely hurt. "I thought you liked it."

"I do. Doesn't mean it's not strange, _chere_. Why are you wearing it in the first place?"

She shrugged and avoided meeting his devilish eyes. "I needed some color in my wardrobe, so I bought this at a flea market."

"And you decided to wear it today for no particular reason?"

"Correct."

Gambit smiled, stretching lazily. "Say, I heard Bobby complimenting Kitty on that colorful shirt she wore yesterday," he remarked casually.

Rogue was silent.

Gambit's grin widened.

Finally, she huffed her defeat, grumbling, "Who's the telepathic one now?"

He laughed, victorious. "I knew it! You seem like the type of girl who'd have ulterior motives behind buying such a… _groovy_ shirt."

"How do you know what _type of girl _I am, hmm?"

"I just know," he said simply. "And don't worry, Bobby's not being unfaithful. I know that kid. He's watched my back a coupla times on rough missions. He's a good guy."

A hesitant smile flickered on Rogue's face. "You're right," she agreed softly. "He is."

"Of course. I'm always right, _mon ami_."

"Sometimes."

"I'm glad you feel the same way about my far superiority over everyone else."

"Let's not get carried away."

"Again, the woman with the African-print shirt thinks she has the right to be hypocritical."

Rogue ran her tongue over her front teeth. They were laced with the taste of alcohol. "I'm very fond of this shirt, _merci beaucoup_."

"Your _François_ is sexy."

"Mmm hmm. Find someone else to hit on," she teased.

"'Fraid not," Gambit said, exaggeratedly bowing his head to his chest with mock sadness. "Terry's not my type."

Two could play that game. Rogue pretended to sympathize. "There, there," She said, patting his shoulder. "You'll find someone. Who knows? She might just be right under your nose."

(6)

"You look familiar," Gambit remarked, shuffling his playing cards as he spoke. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," the man replied. "But you can call me Barton."

"I'm Gambit," He introduced himself, "And this is Rogue."

Rogue waved, regarding Barton cautiously. He had short, messy blond hair and sharp eyes that came into view when he removed his dark shades. Stubble covered his jaw.

"Ah, a man who wears sunglasses when it's pitch-black outside. Join the club—membership is free!" Gambit waved around his own shades.

Rogue snorted. "You're ridiculous," she muttered, lips curving upward against her will.

"Where do I sign up?" Barton grinned.

Gambit patted the vacant seat of the barstool beside him. "Sit down, and we can discuss the details," he told the man, cracking a smile.

Barton ordered a drink and flopped down next to Rogue instead. "I'll be sitting next to the pretty lady, actually."

Gambit made puppy-dog eyes. "You don't think I'm pretty, _cher_?"

The blond man rolled his eyes at the Cajun's absurdity toward total strangers. "No, I think you're beautiful. But you're not a lady."

Gambit deflated, pretending to be dejected and hurt. Rogue laughed, and he straightened up, embarrassed.

"Hey, don't stop at my expense," she told him. "But that guy's married, so your misson'll end in vain."

Barton choked on a sip of his drink, stunned. "How'd you know?" he asked her, half astonished and half suspicious.

She smiled. "Well, that's not so hard to answer. Don't you remember me, Hawkeye?"

His jaw dropped and then snapped back with a resounding _click _of the muscles. "_Marie_?"

Rogue's smile widened and spread across her face. She nodded in confirmation.

"Marie?" Gambit repeated, genuinely confused. "Who are you talking about?"

She turned around as if she'd just noticed him. It stung, and Gambit flinched. He quickly shrugged it off. "Marie's my real name," she explained. "I used it before I became an X-Man and everything." She grinned at Barton. "This guy almost shot me when we met."

Terry, who'd been listening discreetly while cleaning the counter for the umpteenth time, hurried away fearfully.

"He tried to _shoot _you?" Gambit asked incredulously. "With a gun?"

"I stuck mostly to bow and arrows at the time." Barton eyed Gambit's drink. "And Marie's lucky I didn't let an arrow fly. I never miss. I'm Hawkeye."

"Never heard of you," Gambit said cheerfully. "What kind of name is Hawkeye? You can't fly, can you?"

"No. But it's Hawk_eye_, dumbass. Hawks have very accurate eyesight."

"_Oui_, good point." He yawned. "And I bet Rogue over here knocked you out right after you nearly shot her."

"Yep. I tried to apologize, she introduced herself, and touched my face. I fell down and passed out. Fantastic experience, if you ask me." Barton turned to her and waggled his eyebrows. "So you're an X-Man, now, Marie?"

Rogue nodded. "Yes. Oh, and call me Rogue, will you? 'Marie' makes me uncomfortable."

"Sure," Barton said with a reassuring smile. He tapped his fingers against Gambit's glass, eyes flickering between the two X-Men. He glanced at his watch. "Look at the time—I've got to go. Sorry for such a short stay—and thanks for the drink, Gambit. I put it on your tab."

He was gone in a flurry of whiskery cheeks and tangled blond hair.

Gambit watched him leave, sipping his drink.

A minute passed, and a few more swallows. "That man was pretty interested in you," he commented with an unreadable expression. "I noticed that you didn't tell him about how you took the Cure."

Rogue looked at him warily. "What are you trying to say, Remy?"

"Nothing, _cherie_."

"Tell me."

"_Non_, it's nothing."

"Re-my." She divided his two-syllable name into two separate words, a habit she'd picked up from some of the girls at the mansion. Stretching out names annoyed people like crazy, and she was perfectly aware of that.

"Fine," he said bluntly. "I was just thinking that maybe all the guys chase you because you're untouchable. It's a challenge to them, so they flirt with you."

There was a tense beat of silence.

Rogue's mouth fell open but nothing came out. Speechlessly, she stood up and started walking toward the door. She kept all her fury bottled up inside, like a bomb ready to explode, like one of Gambit's kinetically-powered playing cards.

"Wait… wait, Rogue, I didn't mean that," he rushed to say, immediately regretting what he had said before. "Come back."

She whirled around. "Is that what I am to you?" She demanded, furious. "A challenge, though I have a boyfriend? Though I have _no interest _in you?"

The last part was partially a lie, but whatever.

Whatever.

Gambit's oddly-colored eyes pleaded with her. "C'mon, Roguey, I didn't mean it."

She usually forgave easily. Right? That's what people expected her to do.

With a wave of anger curling through her body, Rogue turned to Gambit to flip him off, to tell him just what she thought of him at the moment.

Then she saw his drink. It was fizzy, full of bubbles that were usually found in soda or champagne. Gambit had ordered his typical whiskey, not ginger ale.

_Barton had spiked his drink_.

Rogue snapped her head up. Looking more closely, she finally noticed how unfocused and bleary his eyes were, how bloodshot they were.

Gambit was a man who could take as many drinks as he wanted without appearing drunk. What had Barton added? Was it possible to make alcohol _more _alcoholic?

"Don't go," Gambit begged. The words were partially slurred. "Please, _cherie_?"

Still, a drunk man was someone who was so intoxicated that he openly spoke his mind. No matter which way you twisted it, Gambit must've meant exactly what he'd said about the admirers who were so attracted to Rogue.

At that point, Gambit had begun to chatter randomly in French. It was unsettling, but Rogue pressed her lips into a firm line and forced herself to move her stiff and robotic legs toward the exit.

"Wait!" He called out in English, grabbing her arms and pulling her close to him.

Suddenly, her heart hammered wildly, accelerating. She understood why. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Gambit mumbled. His pupils were huge, the red almost engulfed in black. "_Désolé_."

He was too close, too close, _thisclose_. She could count the tiny, almost unnoticeable freckles on his tan skin.

"Uh." Rogue froze. "Uh."

She wrestled away, blushing to the roots of her hair, and sprinted for the door.

Left in her wake, Gambit sat there with his drink, paralyzed and drunk and confused.

* * *

**Heh. Terrible, terrible writing. If you have the urge to flame, go ahead. **

**Thanks to lilacgardens12, Rogueslove22, BasiaM82, EnglishRose28, Chellerbelle, and ithinkimaninja for reviewing!**

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	4. Chapter 4

**I'm skipping back and forth between dramarama and simple banter. I don't know how to end this. Maybe just a few more chapters...?**

Chapter Four

(7)

When Rogue saw Gambit again the next Monday night, he didn't seem to remember anything at all about how their previous meeting had ended.

"Are you sure?" She pried, anxiously chewing on her bottom lip. "You don't remember _anything_?"

"Nothing," He verified. "It's all a blur. I didn't do anything wrong, did I? Did I _say _something wrong?"

"Actually, yes." Rogue waved hello to Terry, who was—as usual— vehemently scrubbing the already-clean counter. If he kept up his OCD-like cleaning habits, the counter would surely split in half. "You were a bit of a jerk."

"Really?" Gambit sounded fascinated. "What did I say?"

She told him, watching his face change colors like a traffic light as her calm words (renewed anger sparking behind that façade) spewed out.

"Oh… _chere_, I'm sorry." He meant it.

"I know. You apologized before."

He looked away. "Guess I let my old self out."

"What?" She stared at him curiously.

"Well… uh, I wasn't such a good person after I escaped Stryker." Gambit smiled with—could it be?—a hint of nervousness. "In fact, I was an asshole."

"Stryker? He locked you up?" Rogue asked, allowing herself to smirk at his confession about being an asshole.

"_Oui_. He was a monster."

Her voice was flat. "Yes, Remy, I think I would know that."

He was reminded of her history as an X-Man. "Right. _Désolé_."

"Stop apologizing. Please."

"Sor—uh, _oui_. Anyway, after I escaped, I felt like the king of the world. I could do anything. I spent my life at casinos. I rarely used my mutation. My eyes… they became _normal _after a while. Brown." Gambit paused. "And then… I met Logan. I could barely kick his ass; he kicked mine. He was my first friend in a while." He barked a laugh. "Before he lost his memory, that is."

Rogue frowned. "But… how did that make you an asshole?" It didn't make sense to her. He'd been scared off by Stryker and his experiments, so he stopped using his mutation. That's what had gotten him in trouble in the first place, so his decision sounded pretty reasonable.

Gambit smiled tightly. "Well… I did a lot of bad things, _cherie_. Like forgetting my heritage, one of the only things I'm proud of. A different woman every night. Tricking my opponents into betting all they had when they played against me. Getting angry at just the _mention _of 'mutant', 'Stryker', or even 'island'." He carefully met her gaze. "Is that enough for you?"

As she swallowed his words like pills, something dawned on her. "You liked it, didn't you?" She accused. "You _liked_ pretending your past life didn't exist, ignoring your mutation. You were worse than me taking the Cure. You're a filthy hypocrite, Remy."

"_Non_, I'm not," he fired back. "That's history. Eventually, I went home. I resumed my duties, my heritage, my mutation. Then everything went wrong again, but I didn't go back to what I was before. I joined the X-Men."

"Oh, so that makes you better?" Rogue challenged. "It gives you the right to make such a big deal out of me taking the Cure?"

"It does! I was a lot worse!"

"But I didn't do any of the things you did!" She exploded. "I just took the Cure so I could touch people! So I could have a _life_!"

"A life?" Gambit mocked. "Do you feel like you have a _life _when you practice with the little preteen mutants instead of going on missions with the big league, because you don't have a _mutation _anymore?"

She swore so loudly at him that a group of young hipsters in the corner glanced at each other uneasily, as if a bar fight might break out any second.

"I bet you don't use that kind of language with Bobby," Gambit said, smiling cockily and fanning the flames. His voice rose, and it suddenly sounded so strangely southern that the twang nearly matched hers, the Cajun accent almost completed buried. "Or anyone else, for that matter. Back at the mansion, if someone said what I just said, y'all would've cried, wouldn't cha? Trembling lip, watery eyes…"

"Shut up," Rogue said sharply. "Remy, shut up."

He fell silent.

Indifferent, she stiffly wiped away the bit of frustrated wetness that had slid down one cheek, which he had just noticed. His stomach lurched. "Just listen to yourself talk. What do you sound like, you jerk?"

Gambit stared at her wordlessly, remembering what he'd told her about his life after escaping Stryker.

"Well?" She demanded.

"I'm—" he started, the beginning of an apology.

"Yeah." She finished her drink. The group of guys who'd been lounging in the corner (incidentally, they all had skinny jeans and slightly shaggy hair) headed out the bar. Each of them smiled at Rogue, as if Gambit wasn't there. "Apology accepted. Will you buy me a drink?"

(8)

"I've got a hot date tomorrow!" Gambit chortled, lifting his drink in the air. Rogue willingly clinked her glass against his, and they both drank.

"Is it someone I know?" She inquired, letting out a hiccup-like burp.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Do you know Foxx, the new mutant?"

Rogue, who'd taken another gulp of her drink, choked unexpectedly. "_Please _tell me you're joking!" She sputtered, staring wide-eyed at his perplexed face.

"Why? Are you jealous, _cherie_?" Gambit teased. "I like Foxx."

"_No_.I just think she's weird, that's all," Rogue defended herself, crossing her arms. "I've spoken to her before. She seems okay, but she scares me. She's all _motherly_ around me."

"What's so wrong with being a little maternal? She says she wants to be your friend. I talk about you often." He grinned as Rogue blushed a girly shade of pink.

"You didn't tell her about Rainbow, did you?" She asked, glancing around the warm, soothing bar. "This is… _our _thing."

"Aw, _chere_, that's sweet," Gambit laughed. "But no, I didn't say anything about this. I just said we speak to each other a lot and we're good friends. Isn't that true, _Marie_?"

Rogue growled at the use of her old name. "Good friends? You're pretty bigheaded, LeBeau."

He blinked. "How did you…?"

"Storm told me your last name," she said, answering his unfinished question. "It's so… unoriginally _French_."

"Hmm. You know, Stormy was in love with me at one point."

She raised her brows. "Really?"

"_Oui_. The same goes for that cold psychic Brit, the horny _fille_ who makes things explode—we're alike, aren't we?—plus kitty-cat and the blue German's old girlfriend…"

"Now I know you're lying," Rogue said dryly. "Anyway, Kitty—she was in your list, wasn't she? She likes somebody else." Her eyes narrowed angrily at the thought. Bobby was clearly on her mind.

"But that boy has a girlfriend, doesn't he?" Gambit said, trying to cheer her up. "And he probably loves her so much that he wouldn't dare look at anyone else in the same way."

Her eyes pricked with moisture. What was wrong with her, getting all teary? "_Merci_, Remy."

"Please don't speak in French. It makes me want to maul you in a way that would get me arrested."

Rogue laughed. "Well, that's something every girl wants to hear, isn't it?"

"Of course it is. I'm Remy LeBeau. See there, _cherie_? You're one of the few people in this part of the country who know my real name."

"I'm honored," she said sarcastically. "Do I get an award with it?"

"Your award is…" His voice trailing off ceremoniously, he pulled out a sleek black cell phone, dialed a number, and pressed the device to his ear, waiting. Gambit was one of the few X-Men who used a phone instead of the issued communicators. "_Bonsoir_, Foxx."

Rogue stared at him, surprised. She began to speak, but he silenced her with one raised hand and a grin.

"Mmm… _oui_, I'm going to have to cancel for tomorrow. Something came up." He stopped, eyebrows flying up his forehead. "_Non_. Nuh-uh. Why would you even suggest that? Hmph."

His lips curved into a grin at something Foxx had said. With a final goodbye, Gambit said something quickly in French and then hung up.

"What was that?" Rogue asked. "I didn't quite catch the last part."

Gambit shrugged. "Nothing. I just said she was too overprotective, that's all."

She sipped her drink and signaled Terry to get her another. "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

He smiled evasively and changed the subject. "So, since I'm free tomorrow night, where do you want to go?"

Rogue blinked. "You're asking _me_?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. It's just…"

"What is it?"

"Well, Bobby said he wanted to talk to me tonight," she said awkwardly. "I canceled and left because I had to meet you."

Gambit frowned. "What's so important about talking? You talk all the time. He's your _boyfriend_. He's not going to give you the birds and bees talk, is he, _chere_?" He smiled to show he was joking.

Rogue gave him a forlorn look that said plainly, _if only_.

Gambit thought about what other kinds of talks a couple could have. "_Oh_. He's not going to do that. You two are everywhere. He still loves you."

"How do you know that?" She asked, obviously dubious. How many conversations had they had about Bobby? It was much too personal.

"My manly instinct," He deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know how trustworthy your 'manly instinct' is."

"Then don't trust it at all." He grinned. "Instead, have some fun with me tomorrow night."

"Remy…" she said, warning him with her voice the way a mother might. "No."

"Oh, come on, _cherie_. It'll be fun." Gambit stuck out his bottom lip babyishly. "Please?"

"No," she said firmly.

"Please?"

"No."

He snatched her up with the same ease one might pick up a tissue, and pulled her onto his lap. "Rogue…"

Rogue became flustered, her skin turning the reddest it had ever been around him. "This is the most ludicrous position in the world. Pervert." She blurted out the first statements that came to her mind, squirming in his tight grip. Her face felt like it was on fire.

"Is that a yes?" Gambit asked, enjoying Rogue's embarrassed discomfort.

Terry passed by, whistling casually. "You guys are together now? 'Bout time. Good job, bro." He directed the last part to Gambit, who chuckled.

"No, we're not together!" Rogue protested. She shoved at the wiry arms that were keeping her captive, but they wouldn't budge.

"Okay, let's make a deal," Gambit quipped. Rogue stopped struggling, ready to listen to his proposal. "We can play a game of hearts. If I win, you're going to go out with me tomorrow. If you win, you can do whatever you want to me. Torture is included." He grinned.

"Why hearts?" Rogue asked suspiciously. He'd chosen the card game she was best at; back at the mansion, anyone who dared to suggest playing a game on a rainy day usually lost tragically. She distinctly remembered Gambit being around during one of those games, laughing at the people who had lost and enthusiastically high-fiving her.

"'Cause I've never properly learned how to play," Gambit revealed. "Teach me, then we'll start."

A grin slowly spread across her face. How could Gambit, the master of gambling and card games, not have learned to play hearts? She could, and would,win this game. The night out Gambit wanted didn't really matter to her; part of her _wanted _to go with him, actually… but winning a card game against Remy LeBeau was truly something to brag about.

"Alright," Rogue agreed. "Let's play." Gambit released her, and she quickly jumped off his lap. He handed her his latest deck of cards, and she shuffled them, not caring if she couldn't do the fancy tricks he could. As she dealt the cards—which were oddly well-used and worn, she spoke, explaining the game. Gambit asked a few questions about how to win, and she answered them easily.

"I hope you win," Gambit said nonchalantly before they started. There was something that wasn't right about his grin, something that made Rogue want to rip it off.

"I hope I do, too," she said.

And she lost.

* * *

**Ack. I made no sense whatsoever. I was supposed to elaborate on the spiked drink, but I totally lost my train of thought.**

**Good? Bad?**

**Thanks to angel897, BasiaM82, tfobmv18, EnglishRose28, lilacgardens12, Chellerbelle, and Rogueslove22 for reviewing. You guys are badass.**

**CLICK THAT BUTTON RIGHT THERE!**

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	5. Chapter 5

**I don't like it when fics mention too much music. But the entire time I was typing this, The Killers' album was playing in my ears. I'M SORRY!**

Chapter Five

(9)

"So," Gambit began uncomfortably at their next meeting, "I heard you and Bobby broke up."

Rogue concentrated on the wrinkled olive Terry had dropped into her cocktail as a final touch. She spoke quickly and emotionlessly. "Yeah, he ended it. I mean, I avoided him all day on Tuesday, then bailed out on the 'talk' to go gambling with you. Bad girlfriend behavior didn't make him change his mind, obviously."

"I'm sorry, Rogue," Gambit said seriously, taking her hand.

She glanced up at him, then pulled her gaze back down to the olive. Her lashes created shadows on the skin beneath her eyes. "No need to apologize," she said. "I really don't feel anything right now. Isn't that odd?"

"Maybe you're numb," He suggested. "You've been with Bobby for a while, after all."

"Nah, that's not it." Rogue set down her glass on the counter. "I… It's like I don't _care_. I mean, I was expecting it the whole time, wasn't I? Being a drama queen and everything."

"Hmm." Gambit studied her thoughtfully. "You should be a little more upset, though."

"I know. It's funny." She swallowed. "You know what's also funny?"

"What?"

"The fact that he asked out Kitty right after he told me it was over."

It was suddenly so quiet in the bar that Rogue suspected Nightcrawler had arrived and taken everyone away. She looked up to be sure, and only saw a shocked Cajun with 'angry' written all over his face, from the crimson and coal in his eyes to the clench of his jaw. Then—

"I can't believe it!" Gambit seethed. "That _bastard_. I actually thought he was a nice guy. You know, Rogue, I…" he disappeared into yet another long, complicated French outburst that Rogue didn't bother to try understanding. This one was faster than usual, angry and hateful.

"It's okay, Remy, I'm not really bothered," Rogue interrupted. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not _worried_," Gambit growled, "I'm pissed off."

"Well, don't be," she muttered. "Bobby doesn't deserve your anger."

His expression changed like a chameleon's colors. "Ha! See, you _are_ upset."

"Only slightly. It's been almost a week. I don't care anymore. Now, will you please calm down?"

Gambit looked at her in surprise. How could she keep her ticking time bomb under control? He _knew _she had one, under her skin.

Rogue glared at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. It's just…" He ran through the mess of thoughts running through his head, searching for something else to talk about. "…Uh, did you see that game the other night? The Yankees were _whooped_."

She seemed eager to change the topic, yet reluctant to swing from mood to mood. "Yeah, I guess. That last double play sucked, didn't it?"

"I know! I was laughing my ass off, and _mon ami _from Brooklyn was screaming at me over the phone." He chuckled.

"Oh, that's right, you're not a Yankees fan."

"Well, why are _you_ a fan? You're not from around here."

"I grew into it."

"Did Wolf-_homme_ convince you?"

"Are you kidding? He's Canadian. He could care less about baseball, much less the Yankees. He only watches when somebody's playing the Blue Jays." She was really getting into the conversation now, forgetting Bobby, and she was enjoying it.

"The last time we watched a game together, my team against his, he tried to kill me." Gambit winced, then laughed.

She cocked her head to the side. "But… what team do you root for? Louisiana doesn't have any MLB teams."

He shrugged. "This and that. Anything but the Yankees or Red Sox."

"So that's why you're never around on game nights."

"Well, I _watch_, but I don't hang around the mansion."

"Hmm." She scrutinized him cautiously. "You should come. It's fun. The younger kids try to make popcorn, but some guy always manages to pull a J—a Pyro, and burn everything. We still eat it, though, even though it tastes like crap. Especially Bobby, he's always really kind and helps out when…" Her voice trailed off, and a tidal wave of emotions crashed to shore. Tears began to well up in her eyes, like, _finally_.

"_Cherie_, why are you crying?" Gambit asked gently. He let her fall into his arms, soaking his shirt with her tears.

"Baseball makes me sad," she sobbed, her voice muffled by the material of his clothing.

He chuckled. "Sure. Have you been holding that in since last Wednesday?"

"Yes."

"Well… do you want me to sing a song to make you feel better?"

"A song? You're terrible at singing." She half-laughed into his shirt, wet tears still streaming from her eyes.

"_Moi_?" He gasped, acting shocked. It was only partially true; he could carry a tune if he tried.

"Yes, you. I imagine you sound atrocious when you sing."

"Atrocious. I quite like that word."

"I do, too."

His shirt was starting to look like it'd just been washed. "Well, I think I'm a pretty good at singing. You know, I had this one kinky girlfriend who liked to sing when we—"

"Don't finish that sentence!" She cut him off.

"Okay, fine." Gambit grinned. "But you'll let me sing, _oui_?"

"Uh-huh."

He cleared his throat. "_'You can fall for chains of silver, you can fall for chains of gold. You can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold.'"_

Rogue smiled slightly into his shirt, then cried harder.

"I guess that didn't help, huh?"

At last, she raised her head and peeked up at him with red-ringed eyes. "It did. Thanks."

_" _It's 'Romeo and Juliet' by The Killers," Gambit told her softly. "Originally by Dire Straits. _'You promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin. Now you just say, 'Romeo… oh, I used to have a scene with him!'"_

A tear dripped down the slope of her nose and fell onto her wrist. She rested her head over his heart, fingers still clutching his shirt. "I'm being dramatic again, aren't I?"

"_Oui_. But I can handle it." He grinned. At her touch, his nerves were burning fiercely like wildfires. "Are you all right now, _chere_?"

"No, but I'm close enough." Rogue laughed, pulling away from him. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Um… sorry about your shirt."

Gambit glanced down. It looked like he'd just ran fifteen miles and sweated a storm, or maybe gone out into the rain to have some fun. "_Non_, don't worry about it."

She smiled uncertainly and imitated his previous words, "I'm not worried, I'm pissed off." She paused. "I shouldn't have broken down like that. How embarrassing."

They sat there quietly for a moment, watching each other. He arched a brow, she copied him. She moved a lock of white hair out of her face, he flicked a stray strand of brown from his eyes.

"You know," Rogue said in the end, breaking the silence, "I was wrong about Kitty and Bobby. She never had interest in him. He asked her out, but she turned him down because of her crush on Piotr."

Gambit laughed. "I like her."

(10)

"You got a tattoo of your girlfriend's name?" Gambit critically examined Terry's tattoo with clear disapproval in his voice. "Are you insane, _homme_?"

Terry sounded hurt. "What do you mean? I love her. She's beautiful." He flexed his almost-but-not-quite-guido muscles, and the letters of _Siobhan _rippled creepily.

"You just don't seem like the kind of guy who'd stay locked down in a serious relationship." Gambit muttered, shaking his head. "At least you didn't get her entire body inked onto your arm. The older and heavier you'd get, the uglier she'd become."

Terry gave him a strange look that said, _How the hell do you know that?_

Gambit paused and thought about it. "I'm not really sure."

The door burst open and Rogue came in, cold and shivering. She stamped soft white flakes off her boots and walked toward the two men, long hair askew and red nose resembling a strawberry or tomato.

"Oh, look," Gambit said, amused. "It's Rudolph."

Rogue glared at him. He'd arrived only five minutes earlier than her, but he looked warm and perfectly fine and nothing was out of place. His trench coat was rumpled and his hair was messy, but that was normal. "It's _snowing _outside!"

Gambit smiled. "I know."

"It's not even November yet!"

Terry shrugged. "Once, it didn't snow till January."

She stared at him. "That's my point."

"Oh. Okay." He blinked, lost, subconsciously moving away from the Louisiana man and the Mississippi girl.

Back to polishing the shiny counter, Rogue guessed.

Gambit shot her a crooked grin. "I haven't seen you all week, _cherie_."

She smiled. The way he looked at her made her happy. "I've been busy. I complained to Logan, you know. He moved me up. I'll be with your group starting on Saturday."

His eyes widened. "Wow! Congratulations, Rogue. I knew you'd finally break through."

She blushed slightly. "Well, I've been through a lot. It was unfair for them to treat me like a kid."

"It was," he agreed. Gambit dug into his pocket and pulled out a thin CD case. He handed it to her, fingertips brushing hers.

Sparks flew.

No, actual sparks.

"Ouch!" Rogue yelped, trying to shake the unexpected pain from her hand. It felt like it had just burst into flames. "What was that for, Remy?"

He stared at his own hand, bewildered as well. "I… I don't know. _Désolé_."

Rogue decided to brush it off as a simple accident. "Uh, it's all right. What's this?" She held up the album, which she'd dropped into her lap at the contact with Gambit's skin. "_Sawdust_," she read, figuring it was the title.

"It has the song I sang to you last week," Gambit explained awkwardly, with a sheepish smile. "Stole this from an old friend."

"Thievery again, Remy?" She teased.

"_Borrowed_," He corrected himself. "Anyway, how'd you know about my addiction to stealing?" He tried not to sound too suspicious.

"Well, on April Fool's, you were the one who stole Logan's entire underwear drawer," Rogue replied with a slight smile. "Why do you sound so paranoid?"

"Uh…" Gambit scratched his head. "It's complicated. C_herie_, remember what I told you about my guild?"

She nodded. "Yeah. And Bella Donna had one too, right?"

"O_ui_. My guild… they're, er, the Thieves Guild. And Bella Donna… is part of the Assassins Guild." He didn't know why he was telling her this. It just felt right.

Her reaction was not what he expected. She didn't gape at him or demand more answers. Instead, she just raised a brow and said, "Well, that's not a surprise. You're from New Orleans, after all. I've heard about the Guilds before."

He stared at her openmouthed until he regained the use of his voice. "Really?"

"Yeah. I assumed those were the ones you were talking about before."

"You… okay. _Merde_. I don't know what to say."

Rogue laughed. "I'm flattered." She flipped the CD from hand to hand, finally tucking it into the pocket of her coat after a beat of consideration.

"You've very weird, _cherie_."

"So I've heard."

Gambit chuckled and edged closer, sweeping a loose lock of hair from her face. His skin grazed hers once more, but this time there were no sparks. She held her breath, suddenly nervous. She liked the way his face was sculpted, but up close, she didn't care about his beauty. She just felt like touching him, making contact, because she could. Because he was Gambit, he was Remy.

Rogue smirked and sang quietly, "_'A lovestruck Romeo, sings the street a serenade, laying everybody low with a love song that he made.'_"

Gambit laughed out loud and leaned back, looking at her with something she couldn't quite name in his eyes. "You listened to the song?"

She smiled. "Of course I did, Remy. But I'm still taking the CD." She patted the square shape in her pocket and her smile broadened.

His fingers curled involuntarily, as if all the blood in his body was rushing elsewhere. "You're a strange lady, Rogue."

"I know."

Gambit cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes, then back up into her eyes. "You still hung up over Bobby, _cherie_?"

"Maybe." Suddenly, at the subject change, Rogue tore her gaze away from his face and avoided making any kind of eye contact. Her nails tapped restlessly against the spotless counter.

"Don't move on too fast," He murmured quietly. "Nobody likes being a rebound."

And then, without another word, he got up, rushing out the bar and into the white blizzard outside.

* * *

**...Pointlessness. Three more chapters or so. Spiked drink plot is abandoned.**

**So please leave a message after the beep. Tell me what you think.**

**Thanks to courtneykutie, ChamberlinofMusic, LibraMoon, Chellerbelle, EnglishRose28, Rogueslove22, lilacgardens12, and tfobmv18 for reviewing. *Dances* Lots of love.**

**:D**

**CLICK. THAT. BUTTON.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Kwanzaa! I referred to DC Comics in this chapter. Hee hee. It was fun to write.**

Chapter Six

(11)

"I'm not feeling so good today," Rogue complained to Gambit. "I think I'm sick."

He tilted his head and inspected her with concern. "Fever? Cold?"

"Neither. I just don't feel right."

"Flu?"

"Nope."

"Maybe you're pregnant."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, 'cause Bobby and I totally had goodbye sex right after we broke up."

"_What?_"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." She grinned at his stunned face. "Jeez, Remy, it's not fair if you can joke around but I can't." Rogue coughed. "Anyway, I was the little girl who wore a ring on her pinky finger. Of course, I don't wear it anymore, but I still hold onto my beliefs."

Gambit whistled. "Abstinence? That poor bastard. I guess Bobby deserved it."

Rogue punched his arm. "Shut up."

"Oh, are you finally over him, _cherie_? Thank God."

"I am. But that doesn't mean anything."

"I'm sure it means _something_."

She ignored him and drew a medium-length rectangular shape from inside her coat. "Here. I want you to read this."

He raised his brows, studying the hardcover graphic novel in his hands. "I lent you music, and you're giving me comics in return?"

"What, you don't like _Blackest Night_? I think it's pretty good." She was offended.

"I've already read it," Gambit grinned and handed the book back to her. "Sorry, _chere_. I'm a certified comic junkie. Try harder."

Rogue scoffed. "You've read everything that has Green Lantern?"

"_Non_, not everything. I prefer the heroes who have actual powers, not just alien power rings." He smirked and studied the man in green on the cover. "He looks a bit like Wade, doesn't he?"

"Who's Wade?" She blinked, baffled.

"That's, um, Deadpool. I've seen pictures of him before his… _transformation_, and he looks a lot like this Hal Jordan guy." Gambit rubbed his chin, which was rough with dark stubble. "I like John Stewart better."

"You kidding? Hal's my favorite." Rogue started to argue further, but stopped and let her lips curl into a smile instead. "Oh, you're the first person I've been able to have this type of conversation with. Nobody else reads comics—I mean, if you're a mutant, why would you care about fictional superheroes, right?"

He nodded. "True. But then again, why do married women read romance novels?"

They turned to each other, and at the same time, they both asked incredulously, "Then why do _you _read comics?"

Gambit responded first. "Well, you're the one who lives in a mansion full of mutants."

"Yes, but _I _took the Cure. You still have powers."

He crossed his arms. "Not all comics feature superheroes, _cherie_." He reached for _Blackest Night _once more.

Rogue held her book out of his reach, tucking it away when he scowled and gave up. "Where's Terry?" She asked, glancing around. Instead of their familiar Gambit-respecting bartender, a girl with a shaved head, multiple piercings, and combat boots was serving up the drinks.

"Hope she's just a substitute," Gambit said, watching her stomp back and forth in her torn gray wifebeater and leather pants. "I spent a night with a woman like that before. It was scary and fantastic at the same time." He shuddered. "I'm too afraid to order a drink. My memories haunt me."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Dramatic much, Remy? Let's talk to her." She waved the girl over, paying no heed to Gambit's visible grimace and the audible wince that accompanied it.

"What's up?" The girl said in a surprisingly high soprano voice as she walked to their usual place.

"Just wanted to say hello," Rogue answered. "Are you Terry's replacement?"

She shook her head. The short fuzz on her scalp was a peachy blond. "Terry's in the hospital. I'm just covering for him until he gets better. I'm Lexi. I'm the owner of Rainbow."

Gambit stopped staring at the shiny silver bar on Lexi's perfectly plucked eyebrow (it was the biggest bar he'd ever seen) and met her eyes. To his shock—and Rogue's amusement—she blushed like an infatuated school girl when he made eye contact. "What happened to him?" He asked, slightly taken aback by her sudden shy interest.

"Oh, well, his girlfriend tried to run over him in her car."

Gambit had trouble stifling his laughter, while Rogue's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, is he all right?" She gasped, clutching her scarf (the one that looked like a small tent, the one Kitty had knitted her at the start of their friendship following the incident with Bobby).

"Yeah, just a few injuries. His girlfriend—or, _ex-_girlfriend—has terrible eyesight and dreadful aim." Lexi seemed disgruntled by the whole situation. "I think she's the one whose name is tattooed on his bicep."

"Poor Terry," Rogue mused sympathetically. She smiled when she saw Lexi eying Gambit like a piece of meat. He'd definitely noticed, and it looked like he was having horrific flashbacks of the girl he'd spoken about spending a night with. She felt a strange pang inside. "Um, when is he coming back?"

Lexi didn't look away from Gambit, whose expression of discomfort grew more and more uncomfortable by the second. "I don't know. A few weeks, I guess."

Gambit cleared his throat. "Uh, Lexi?"

"Yesss?"

"Could you get me some… scotch, _s'il vous plait_?"

Her eyes glazed over like doughnuts, boxed up with coffee and ready to be sold to handlebar-mustache cops. "Okay."

"_Merci_."

Lexi scampered away.

Rogue gave him a look, though her lips curved into a grin shortly after. If he wanted to, he could probably speak in flawless, unaccented English. His French was just a tiny bolt of the many parts that made up the monstrous, complete machine that was Remy LeBeau.

"What?" He returned the smile. "Didn't your parents teach you to say please and thank you?"

(12)

Gambit watched Rogue step toward him, shaking fluffy snow out of her hair and sneezing uncontrollably.

"You okay, _chere_?" He asked.

"Just cold," she replied. "It's freezing outside."

"_Oui_, it's pretty chilly this year." He agreed.

Instead of taking her coat off, she pulled it tighter around herself, completely bundled up. "Hey, Remy?" Rogue sniffled.

"Mmm?" He passed her a Kleenex.

"You should move into the mansion."

Gambit froze. "Why?"

She blew her nose loudly. "I never see you around. Everybody likes you, you know."

"I know." He chuckled.

"Everyday, all I hear is, 'Where's Gambit?' They treat you like a celebrity, especially the little kids." Rogue smiled. "Since you came over for the end of the World Series a few weeks ago and ate all the burnt homemade popcorn."

"Well, you convinced me." He grinned. "You should've seen Bobby's face when I hugged you."

She gasped. "I knew you didn't do that because you suddenly became a Yankees fan!"

He put his hand over his heart. "What? Are you suggesting I hugged you to make your ex-boyfriend jealous? _Non_, I'd never do that. I got caught up in the moment, that's all." Gambit's laughter was husky and deep.

Rogue rolled her eyes, though her heart was suddenly thudding like a drum. "Anyway. Will you move in? Please?"

A smile played on his lips. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" She repeated, irritated. "Remy…"

"I need some convincing, _cherie_."

She made a face.

Up close, he realized, he could see all of her features in high-definition. Rogue was wearing _makeup _today, her lashes longer and thicker than usual and her lips a pretty shade of pink.  
Why? Was she self-conscious, worried about her appearance? Rogue was the girl-next-door type of chick who usually went around with the 'natural' look and didn't seem to be bothered about her exterior—as if she was perfectly aware of the beauty she was born with.

_Merde_. Gambit blinked, mentally cracking his steady stream of consciousness into pieces. He knew exactly where his thoughts were going.

"Hello? Remy? Are you alive?"

He flinched. "_Oui_. What are we talking about? Remind me."

"We're discussing the details on my marriage to Tony Stark. I eloped with him last night."

"Really?" He grinned.

"No, we're talking about whether or not you should get a room at the mansion." She laughed at his honest fascination.

"Right. Convince me." Gambit rubbed his hands together in anticipation, posing like an evil villain, receiving a chuckle from Rogue.

"Well, I hate to play dirty, but… we're having a party tonight, and only the people who live in the mansion get to come."

"Party?" He arched a brow. "What are you celebrating?"

"I don't know—something-year anniversary of saving the world, I guess? Storm may or may not be on drugs. "

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"Well, it was announced during dinner. Anyway, we automatically assume that the mutants who don't live in the house aren't important enough or are total assholes."

"What?"

"Kidding!"

"Well, party or not, I'm _not_ moving in." He crossed his arms stubbornly and smiled.

"Oh, c'mon, Remy!"

"See, I don't believe Stormy would host a party randomly. She's pretty levelheaded—boring, almost. Really calm."

"Levelheaded? Boring? _Calm_?" Rogue stared at him incredulously. "Remy, it _thunders _outside when she has PMS. People get fried by lightening when she has her actual period."

"_Fried_?" Gambit repeated, amused. "I've pissed her off before, and I'm still not crispy. She loves me, that's why. Do you agree, _cherie_?"

"No, I don't." She rolled her eyes. "But there _is _a party, for your information. The girls dressed me up." She unbuttoned her coat, even though she was already freezing to death, and shrugged it off her shoulders. Wincing at the frosty air that hit her bare arms, she revealed to him what she had been wearing underneath the thick coat: a slim, shimmery dress, green with a few stripes of white, and intricate fishnet tights.

Gambit's jaw dropped.

"What?" Rogue fingered the hem of the short dress. She knew she shouldn't have worn it, but Bobby—who'd she bumped into in the hall—had been struck speechless when he saw her. At the time, in a rush to get to Rainbow, she'd figured that he _liked_ the dress. Maybe it was the exact opposite."Is it really that bad?"

"No, no," Gambit said, recovering quickly. He gazed up and down her body in appreciation. "_Désolé _for staring at you like this, but I can't help myself." He grinned so widely that she forgot her own name.

Nonono. No swooning. Wasn't she girly enough for the night?

"Thanks… I suppose." She flashed a smile in return, as if saying, _Dazzle me_.

Smile.

Smile.

How could two people have a contest that involved throwing each other into a lovestruck daze?

_Lovestruck_. That was a terrible word to use. Rogue winced internally. She didn't _want _to think of Gambit that way.

But there wasn't any hope left for her. She'd already started down that path, and there was no turning back.

His smile seemed to know everything.

"Why are you two smiling like that? Are you both children of the Joker?" A familiar voice demanded.

Rogue nearly threw herself at the unexpected newcomer, she was so relieved to get away from Gambit's alluring grin. "Terry!" She exclaimed. "You're back so soon!"

He shrugged, lifting his right arm a few inches in the air. It was wrapped in hardened gauze and stuck in a sickly blue sling. "Just broke my arm and got a few scratches. Guess I won't be cleaning the counter any time soon. Did, uh, Lexi tell you what happened?"

Gambit stood up. "Glad you're back, _mon ami_. And yes, Lexi told us. Your girlfriend—Siobhan, right?—tried to kill you."

"Yeah. She really just swerved and missed, though. I jumped out of the way and got this." He pointed to his cast. "Smooth, huh?"

"Very." Gambit's eyes and attention returned to Rogue's body. He groaned. "Ugh, I can't do this. Put your coat back on, _cherie_. Please."

Terry jumped a couple feet in the air when he finally noticed Rogue's get-up. "Holy shit!"

Gambit nodded in agreement. "That's what I was thinking."

Terry started to foam a bit at the mouth. "Uhhhh…"

Rogue slapped her forehead with her palm, blowing a strand of hair out of her face with a huff. She pulled on her coat, buttoning it all the way up to her neck. "Testosterone freaks," she said dryly. "You guys are supposed to be _adults_, not horny teenagers."

Secretly, she was flattered.

Terry cleared his throat, embarrassed. He, like Gambit, was also older than her, yet obviously not as mature. "Sorry, Rogue," he apologized, deciding make a hasty dash for his precious counter. As he shuffled away, his face was beet-colored—more purple than red, and definitely unnatural.

Gambit got down to business once their bartender was out of the way. "Okay, let's make a deal, _chere_. I'll move into the mansion if you… if I, uh…"

She raised her eyebrows. "If…?"

"…if I get the room next to yours."

Rogue blinked. His offer sounded surprisingly sensible. "Sure."

He grinned, not yet finished. "…_and_ if you let me stick a poster-size photo of you in that dress right above my bed."

She stared at him. "No."

"Oh, _cherie_, please? Your picture will keep my nightmares away." He glanced innocently at her (covered) outfit. "Or would you prefer to keep me company yourself? You're the real thing, after all."

She buried her face in her hands. "No! You can have the damn picture."

"So, what you're saying is, you want me in your house but _not _your bed?" Gambit concluded.

Rogue sighed. "Yes, you've got it perfectly."

(Lies!)

* * *

**I watched Tron half an hour ago. Amazing graphics.**

**Anyway, there will be one more chapter for this story. It's short, I know, but I've got another fic in mind.**

**(IT INVOLVES DEADPOOL AND LOTS OF ROMY.)**

**Thanks to courtneykutie, angel897, EnglishRose28, My Beautiful Ending, ChamberlinofMusic, RoguesLove22, lilacgardens12, Chellerbelle, Madame Morbid, and the anonymous "|" for reviewing. Much love to you guys.**

**:D**

**CLICK IT. NOW. THAT BUTTON LIKES YOU.**


	7. Chapter 7

**COMPLETED. I've never finished a fic before. *Grins* Happy New Year, old chaps.**

Chapter Seven

(13)

"I have cramps all over." Rogue moved her head, touching it to each shoulder. The muscles of her neck made cracking noises as she attempted to stretch them. "I didn't even visit the Danger Room today, but I'm in pain right now. Maybe I'm dying of some terminal illness."

"You can sit on my lap, _cherie_, if that'll make you feel better," Gambit waggled his brows suggestively.

"Don't count on it, Remy." She rolled her eyes and lowered herself onto her own barstool. Even the muscles of her _gluteus maximus_ hurt. Gambit's lap suddenly sounded very tempting.

"Well, a man can hope." Gambit glanced at her fingers, which were bright red from the outside chill and were turning violet. "Why aren't you wearing gloves?"

Rogue shrugged. "I don't feel like it."

"Do you own any? I could lend you a pair. Your fingers are getting frostbitten." He touched her icy hands in concern, rubbing them between both of his hands to transfer warmth.

She laughed somberly, though she secretly enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers. "Oh, I have a _lot _of gloves, Remy. I just don't like wearing them anymore. Being gloveless is personal sign of victory."

He stared at her, mystified, then shook his head. "I don't get it," he said, though he had a vague idea of what she was talking about. It was likely that a girl who had once been unable to touch people without stealing bits of their identity and putting them to sleep would have a collection of gloves. If you walked and talked, you used their hands more than anything else. And if you were Rogue, and you couldn't touch anyone, there was no choice but to cover them up.

When the blood had returned to her fingers, Gambit dropped her hands and looked expectantly into her face. "Well," he began, a different subject on the tip of his tongue, "I'm all packed up. I'll be moving into the mansion on Thursday."

Rogue's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Really?" She asked excitedly.

"Really."

She jumped from her seat and practically tackled him, though her entire body screamed in pain at the action. "That's amazing!"

He chuckled. "I should've decided to move in earlier, then."

Blushing furiously, she removed her arms from his neck, fingertips snatched from the nape, and climbed off of him. "Oops. Sorry."

"S'okay," Gambit smiled, and leaned back.

Her skin tingled. _Denydenydeny_, her mind chanted. Deny what?

"Yo." Terry shimmied over, as smoothly as a person with a broken arm could. "You want something to drink? There's, like, nobody here tonight."

Gambit and Rogue were quiet. Rogue shook her head slightly; alcohol wouldn't help the massive migraine forming in her head.

"Hey!" Terry frowned. "You guys dead or something?"

"Maybe." Gambit scratched the back of his neck.

More silence.

"My birthday's coming up soon," Rogue blurted randomly. "This month. The last Monday."

Terry blinked. "Oh, cool. Remind me, will you? Your drinks will be on the house that day." He smiled warmly.

"Thanks, Terry."

"Don't mention it."

Gambit was looking at her strangely. "What is it?" Rogue demanded.

"Nothing." He glanced away. "Just… you're turning twenty-three, _cherie_?"

"Yep. Twenty-three." She cringed at the thought that she'd be Gambit's age—just with the digits in reverse order. She had the sudden desire to be older.

"Hmm." It seemed like he wanted to say something, but was holding back.

The atmosphere was so awkward that the uneasiness seemed almost tangible, as if Terry could reach out and grasp it and throw it in the faces of the X-Men in front of him. He wasn't the smartest guy, but he could tell what was going on between Rogue and Gambit. The only dumbasses who _couldn't _recognize what was going on were probably the two people in question.

"Do you want some drinks or not?" Terry asked, resting his injured arm on the counter. He haphazardly chucked a napkin at Gambit, who didn't even flinch, and then scooped it up and tossed it to Rogue, who barely moved, even when it got stuck in her hair.

"God," Terry muttered in annoyance, adjusting his sling and stepping back. "You stupid lovebirds are so—"

"Where are you going, Terry?" Rogue said, snapping out of her trance at the perfect time. She swatted the napkin from her tangled locks."Can I see that tattoo I've heard so much about?"

Terry sighed. He couldn't say no to a pretty girl. That (sort of) explained how he'd gotten into a relationship in the first place with his sociopath ex-girlfriend. "Okay," he gave in. "But I can't roll up my sleeve by myself. I need help." He gestured toward his good arm. Gambit easily reached over and pushed up the fabric for him.

"Whoa." Gambit gasped. Rogue struggled not to gag. The tattoo that had been a splotchy newborn pink only a few weeks ago was now bruised and yellowish, a contrasting rainbow of colors. The whole area was swollen and puffy.

It was a crime scene.

"As if trying to kill me wasn't enough for her," Terry joked weakly, trying to roll down his sleeve. Rogue ended up helping him, gently tugging the cotton over the infected Old English lettering.

"You need medical attention," Gambit pushed.

"I don't. I'll be fine."

"Terry, _mon ami _Hank McCoy can—"

"Hey, man, why don't you worry about your _own _problems right now?" Terry interrupted fiercely. "Like your girlfriend over there. You think she likes waiting around? You're an ass."

Gambit's jaw dropped. So did Rogue's. Terry usually clung to every word Gambit said, a lovey-dovey fanboy living in the shell of a regular guy. He didn't talk back against him, didn't spit words like poison. And although Terry's words were uncharacteristically brash, they rang true.

Rogue broke the uncomfortable, shocked silence that had ensued. "You know what?" She said hurriedly. "I'm late for, uh, my book club meeting."

"Book club?" Gambit said incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yesiree. We're reading _To Kill A Mockingbird_, and I won't be considered a Southern girl at heart if I don't participate. See you all."

And with that final note, she left.

(14)

It was snowing again, a terrible storm that wreaked havoc throughout the county, crazy flakes shooting from the sky and blistering winds accompanying them.

The weather matched Rogue's mood perfectly, and it was no coincidence. Getting up early in the morning, she'd felt a wild rush of endless energy that coursed through her veins like streams of liquid power. The discovery scared her shitless. She hadn't felt that energetic in a while, and she was sure something was wrong with her.

So, she went off to get herself checked out in the infirmary, and accidentally bumped into Storm in one of the long, winding hallways.

The rapid events that followed could only be described as part of a living nightmare.

She didn't want to think about it anymore.

"_B-bonsoir_," Gambit shivered, sitting down. His teeth chattered. His coat dripped. "I haven't seen you all day. I heard about what happened, though."

Rogue was silent, refusing to speak.

Gambit hesitated, then laid his hand over hers, which was securely swathed in green silk. The glove was beautiful yet slightly faded; it had clearly been worn before. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It'll be all right."

She snatched her hand away. "It _won't _be all right," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I've lost it all. I lost everything." She glared at floor, her head bowed, reluctant to look up and face him.

"You haven't lost me."

A dizzying shock of emotion charged through her. "I don't care." She forced herself to say flatly.

He didn't recoil the slightest. "Are you sure, _cherie_?" He asked gently, knowing the answer.

Rogue raised her head. Her eyes were wet and drippy. "No." Her face crumpled. "I just hate… I just hate that I can't touch you anymore." She let the tears fall freely. "I can't touch _anyone_. You were right, Remy. The Cure wasn't permanent."

Gambit touched her damp cheek with his index finger, then pulled back. "_Oui_, but you've missed this, haven't you?" He watched in rapt fascination as spider web cracks formed on his skin and Rogue's eyes glowed slightly red, just from that single second of contact.

She shook her head wildly in denial. "_Non!_" She bit her tongue to hold back the growing surge of French phrases she'd just received from Gambit's touch, adjectives and verbs and nouns and conjugations all threatening to spill out.

"You _have_." He confirmed.

Her shoulders slumped. "I have," she whispered. "But that doesn't mean I want it."

He felt a current of sympathetic sadness, and carefully met her eyes. "Remember when we first met, and you said you would find a way to retake the Cure if it wore off?"

"Yes." The idea sounded pretty enticing now; it was beginning to sound like her one and only choice. But how would she be able to do so

"Are you still going to do that?"

Rogue exploded in a blaze of rage and contempt, as if the answer was obvious. "Of course! I _hate _my mutation! I don't want it! I _never _wanted it!"

He studied her upset, fuming expression. "Don't waste your time and energy on getting rid of something that's part of you." He nudged her gently. "Keep it, _cherie_. Your mutation makes you who you are."

She burned like a flame. "How do you know, Remy? You met me when I was mutation-free. Maybe the non-mutant version of me is better. Maybe you like _her _more." Her eyes smoldered angrily.

Gambit gripped her shoulders. "I know what you're thinking. I understand. And listen to me—" he gave her a small shake, "I—don't—_care_."

She was motionless, a bit confused.

"Do you think I care about whether or not you have your mutation? You're still _Rogue_." He inhaled sharply. "_Oui_, it'd be better if you accepted yourself, but it'd also be better if I could touch you. _I don't care_." He watched her lips part in shock. His voice cracked a little. "And—and I know this is a horrible time to say this, but I really like you. I've liked you for a while, actually."

Her cheeks colored. Her wall of resistance and fury crumbled. Everything melted, softened, and turned to mush. "I…I…" Rogue stuttered.

He drew her close, arms wrapping around her, and crushed his mouth to hers.

In a heartbeat, she felt it all. She could feel _everything_ from him, and it made her woozy. Passion, want, love, pure craving for her—she was absorbing his feelings like a sponge. They so strong, she feared she would suddenly faint from the engulfing rushes of… of Gambit.

And that boy, that _man_ Gambit was slipping, slipping, trying to hold on but failing. He would pass out soon if he continued to keep her in a lip-lock.

Her hands shook with the abrupt power that danced on her fingertips, her toes, even her tongue. She could charge up anything she wanted, make the whole world implode. She could do it.

She could also push him away, instead of letting him get weaker and weaker like that.

But why would she do either one?

No. She had to break away. Too much contact could put Gambit into a coma.

But first—

Taking a moment to surrender to temptation, Rogue gripped his face in her gloved hands and kissed him fervently. His eyes seemed to roll back into his head—was it his lust or his fading consciousness that made him do that?

Her mind swarmed with French, with skillful thievery tactics, with gambling tricks, with memories of an adoptive family in New Orleans, with recollections of all the women that hadn't been right for him.

She murmured words against his lips, trying to fight off another flood of tears rising up, "You have the _worst_ timing, Remy."

His face fell slack. His arms, which were curled around her waist, went limp. Eyes widening, she broke the kiss in a panic and tried to keep him away from her skin, pushing him away and supporting him at the same time.

Then Gambit grinned and stood up, stunning her. She didn't know he still had the energy to that.

"Do you know what happened to me today?" He asked, his voice husky and hoarse. When she didn't move, just staring at him, he went on, "I kicked ass in the Danger Room. I forced Terry to go to Hank." Rogue looked around, and sure enough, their familiar bartender wasn't there. "I went through a _blizzard _to get here. And"—his grin widened—"I kissed the most gorgeous, amazing leech in the world, and I'm still standing."

"Oh, Remy…" Rogue whispered, eyes burning red and black. She wanted to attack him in a very inappropriate way, and that wasn't just the Gambit personality getting to the best of her.

"_Cherie_, you can take everything from me, but I'll still have more."

"_Je t'aime_," said Rogue.

"I love you too," said Gambit.

And that was an ending, or maybe just the beginning.

She laced her fingers through his, and together, they walked out of the bar.

* * *

**YES! WHEEEE!**

**Okay, I totally could've made this story better. Heh. Sorry. But it's my first, so give me a break.**

**I have to get back to school on Monday... aw, shucks. The holidays were fun. I'll probably post my new Romy-with-a-side-of-Deadpool fic on Monday afternoon. It's called "Questionable Sanity". Very fitting title for Wade Wilson, eh?**

**Thanks to pawprintsxoxo, tfobmv18, ChamberlinofMusic, angel897, Rogueslove22, ithinkimaninja, Chellerbelle, Simle Abby, Demon Flame, and My Beautiful Ending for reviewing... hell, thanks to everybody. **

**:D**

**Since this is the last chapter... you should probably... CLICK THAT BUTTON RIGHT THERE!**


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